


Fallen Trees

by justalittlegreen



Series: Sunshine and Filth [29]
Category: MASH (1970), MASH (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, M/M, OT3, Post canon, PostWar, So much angst, also now, also the 70s, beej, hunnihawk, jealousy is a human thing, peglet, polyamory is hard in the 50s, punnihawk, we still love peg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-29
Updated: 2018-11-29
Packaged: 2019-09-02 03:19:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16778572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justalittlegreen/pseuds/justalittlegreen
Summary: The realization is so clear, and yet stunning. Of course Hawkeye would be nervous. How has it not occurred to her? Did she really let him grow to such invincibility in her mind?





	Fallen Trees

In the stupor of revelations immediately preceding Hawkeye's arrival, Peggy and BJ haven't actually had the discussion about who sleeps where, or with whom. The question hangs in the room as they show Hawkeye around, make martinis. Peg's got the most basic of dinners ready - no room for experiments or disasters today - and slowly warming in the oven. Despite the question at hand, Hawkeye casually slings his bags in the guest room and doesn't say a word beyond, "Well, it's not the Swamp, but I suppose I can suffer a real bed with sheets for the sake of politeness."

This is the Hawkeye she expected - loud, energetic, joking, loping from one place to another in strides almost longer than BJ's. Peg notices, as they're walking through the house, that BJ stays glued to her - a hand on her back, hooking his little finger through hers, brushing against her shoulder. It's so like him that it doesn't even register until she notices his other hand twisting in the hem of Hawkeye's jacket, tugging probably just enough for him to feel it, as Hawkeye asks an admittedly ridiculous question about the patio that no one even bothers to answer. 

_He's trying to reassure both of us._ The realization is so clear, and yet stunning. Of _course_ Hawkeye would be nervous. How has it not occurred to her? Did she really let him grow to such invincibility in her mind?

She breaks into the chatter, suggests they head to the living room and sit. She wants to hear stories about all the people BJ wrote home about - about Frank, and Radar, and Colonel Potter, and Charles. She suspects the telling will be even better than the writing, and it'll feel good to have them all laughing. And perhaps another martini. Yes, that, she could definitely use right now.

There's a moment of shuffling as they figure out where to sit, and with whom, but Hawkeye again makes it easy by claiming the settee for himself, sprawling across it like he could fall asleep right then and there. BJ settles onto the couch, and Peggy curls up against his side, sipping and listening. The stories _are_ good, and she does laugh, and even offers a few herself, telling all the stories of the party the 4077 families had together. Even though they've heard them (Peggy assumes - hopes - that BJ shared that letter with everyone), the men listen with rapt smiles, occasionally chuckling, or murmuring to each other - "he comes by that honest!" "what that man's mother went through..." - short little phrases that nonetheless seem to evoke entire histories and deep understandings that show clearly on their faces.

She knows they're not trying to leave her out. She knows she oughtn't be jealous. BJ came home to _her._ This love that he has for Hawkeye - it's different. It's not - there's got to be room for her, too. And isn't he sitting on the couch with her, thumb lazily stroking her arm while they drink gin and laugh over people she's heard so much about she practically knows? 

The question of the evening turns darker, settles in the pit of Peg's stomach. She puts her glass down, says, "Look at the light - it's practically eight o'clock. This dinner's either going to be burnt to a crisp or so succulent we don't even have to chew it." 

"Peggy, I promise you, I would eat the leather off your shoes if it meant the pleasure of your company," Hawkeye says, looking up at her through fluttering eyelashes. "Besides, I burned off all my tastebuds in Korea with raw gin and sheer force of will." BJ laughs all the way to his eyes. "It's funny because it's true!" he crows, and Hawkeye looks at him with such undisguised devotion that Peg suddenly feels like she's walked in on them naked.

Peg rolls her eyes - she hopes it looks affectionate - and stands up. BJ gives her a quick look that's half adoration and half concern. She leans down and kisses him - a longer kiss than usual, not a peck. BJ returns it, but with some restraint. She can feel Hawkeye behind her. _Let him know_ , sneers the cruelest part of her mind. _He came home to you._

As soon as she straightens up, guilt sinks in her stomach. Blushing as she makes for the kitchen without looking back, she throws herself into getting dinner together. She pulls the salad out of the fridge, lays plates on the table with a little more force than necessary. She feels BJ come up behind her before she hears him, and keeps her back to him as long as possible. When she finally turns around with the hot pan of spareribs in her hands, he's blocking her way to the table.   
  
"Excuse me," she mumbles, not meeting his eyes. BJ doesn't move. "This is really not a good time for this game," she mutters, turning around and putting the ribs back on the stove.   
  
"Peggy." His voice is a low rumble, with an edge to it that he's never used with her. That gets her attention. She looks up.

She'd expected anger. She'd expected frustration. That's the reasonable thing, when your wife insults your lover after inviting him into your home.

But BJ's expression is one of _anguish._ His fists are balled up at his sides, he looks like he's one breath away from tears, and his eyes keep darting back and forth from her to the living room.   
  
"Peg, I - I can't do this like this. I can't stand you hurting, and I can't let you hurt him on purpose. I can't - I can't protect you from each other."  
  
Peggy feels the tears starting. "I don't want to hurt you," she whispers. "I don't know what came over me."  
  
From the doorway to the kitchen, Hawkeye clears his throat. 

"I'm going to go."

BJ makes a strangled sound that's half pain, half panic. He looks over to Hawkeye, and it's clear that he wants to run to him, wants to hold him tight and keep him from moving, but won't - can't - budge an inch. His feet are stuck.   
  
"It's too much," Hawkeye continues softly, voice shaking. "Peggy, I should have never - I should have known it would be too much. I'm so sorry for causing you pain, I truly am. You never deserved this."  
  
BJ collapses into a chair and buries his face in his palms. "Nobody move. Nobody go anywhere. Nobody say anything or do anything or touch anything. Just - hold on a minute," he says, voice muffled and rough.  
  
Peg looks from one to the other, two half-broken men. _No wonder they needed each other_ , she thinks. _They're like two hurt trees who've fallen toward each other and have been holding each other up. And me - I'm the lightning that put them there._  


_No,_ she amends. _The war put them there._

"Hawkeye?" she says, trying to keep the quiver out of her voice. "Stay for dinner at least? The ribs came out perfect, and it'd be a shame for you to miss them."  
  
BJ looks up. Hawkeye lets out a long, quiet breath.   
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
For the second time that day, Peg wonders if her heart can take all she's trying to fit into it. She nods. "I've never been less sure of anything in my life. But I know for a fact that I want you to sit down and eat with us."  
  
BJ looks between them again. As his gaze reaches Hawkeye, he raises his shoulders like a question. Hawk answers with a cocked head and a twitch of an eyebrow. She can tell there's a whole, wordless conversation going on between them and can't decipher it.  
  
_They probably learned how to do that to protect themselves. To converse in plain sight with no one the wiser._

Finally, Hawkeye answers. "I love ribs."  
  
Peggy nods. "I thought I heard a story about that."  
  
"It's even a story to me - I wasn't there for it," BJ adds.

"Well," says Hawkeye, "if you'll let me help you finish setting the table, I'll tell you about this little place in Chicago, which, now that I think of it, doesn't smell nearly as good as what's coming off your stove..."

The patter picks up, and BJ's shoulders finally relax. On the strength of Hawkeye's story, and the ribs, which have come out terrific, the three of them find their way back to an easier place. There are still so many unanswered questions, and Peg suspects that tonight's rough spot will make a reappearance - maybe many reappearances.

There are no road maps to this. There are no manuals, no plans, no sage advice from pastors and parents. There is only the three of them, alone on a dark, rough road. If they're to find their way through it, they're all going to have to hold on.


End file.
